Wednesday, May 13, 2009

This is the story I want to write

So here it is. This is the story I want to write. George bush and his cronies get kidnapped by an enterprising movie company/terrorist cell and sealed up in a pit somewhere with ventilation and a hidden video camera.

There they are with sufficient water to drink, immersed in the smell and feel of each others’ excrement, fighting over the random bits of food tossed down to them, revealing all their sorry character traits, strip em down to their elements, see if they’re better people without power or even worse - all live, bigger than the first Bush War, 24 hour coverage on CNN, sponsor revenues through the roof. Sponsorship becomes a bigger issue than saving them, like what products are too tasteless to represent the government in exile, after a period of conditioning it’s a free-for-all, hilarious toilet paper ads featuring administration look-alikes. It’s such a hit, nobody really wants to find them.

Coverage is not actually instantaneous. The signal can’t be broadcast straight from the hole or officials would have to admit they could find it and go rescue them. Videos are dropped off at different locations called in from phone booths.

But I can’t write that because I lack the expertise. It has to have a suspenseful buildup, kidnapping strategy, how they get around the Secret Service. I don’t know about any of that stuff. I’d just have Dick and George, Don and Richard and Condi runnin around nekkid out the back forty givin love to pigs and pullin the feathers out of live chickens. Secret Service is off pukin somewhere, helicopter comes over, drops a wide castnet on the whole ugly scene and hauls them up and off.

That’s what I’d write and it just ain’t good enough so I’m skipping all that and cutting right to them in their hole. Action.

It’s their fourth morning of captivity and Donald Rumsfeld is just waking up. “George, what the Hell is this?” he exclaims venomously, pointing at a small pile of feces with a tiny American flag stuck in it.

“Looks like Iwo Jima to me,” Bush smirks, then starts shaking and snuffling uncontrollably.

“That’s not what he’s talking about, George,” Dick Cheney puts in from the limit of his patience. “Rummy wants to know why it’s in his area.”

“Look. I’m the President of the United States . I can crap all over the free world if I want to.”

Richard Perle grabs him by the collar. “This isn’t the free world, you moron. If you don’t learn to…”

Rice squeezes Perle’s shoulder. “Let him go. We could be on camera.”

Meanwhile you’ve got George Bush’s father on tv proclaiming, “This will not stand,” and people all over the world wondering if he’s really just been talking about his penis all this time.

Rumors start flying around that some American special ops guys are behind this because nobody hates the Bush Bunch more than the CIA except General Boykin who thinks it was God stepped in and stole the election from Al Gore by creating Ralph Nader, disenfranchising black people, immaculately conceiving the butterfly ballot, getting Joe Lieberman to say, “Let’s don’t check all those phony military absentee ballots” and finally, after he couldn’t influence the Florida Supreme Court, by getting the United States Supreme Court to do the dirty work.

Back in the hole, these guys are getting skinnier because they’re not getting enough to eat and Rumsfeld, Cheney, Condi and Perle get thinking how they might get the same ration no matter how many of them were dining. And they’re all pretty tired of George Bush, whose presidency has reached his head and he expects special consideration.

“You know, I let myself be the president so you guys could do what the hell you wanted, have your war, whatever. But the blame’s all gonna go on me. I’m the one history’s gonna remember as the world’s worst president. So now it’s your turn to let me have most of the food,” he whined.

“We may need a constitutional amendment for this,” Rumsfeld says pensively. “If you eat the president, does that make you the president?”

Cheney clears his throat. “I believe most cannibalistic tribes assume they get the powers of whomever they eat.”

“That settles it then,” says Rumsfeld.

Network officials are horrified that with Bush gone the ratings could slip but just then Wolfowitz dumps a load of delicious tv dinners in the hole. It would just go on, kind of like that, forever. It would be funny. Anyway, that's the idea. Don't think I'll ever get around to writing it.

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